


You never saw it coming, and your pretty white shirt is red

by oftirnanog



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Murder, Oral Sex, Revenge, canon interaction between Lydia Martin/Peter Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-season 2 after Jackson leaves, Allison and Lydia get together and Lydia gets her revenge on Peter Hale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You never saw it coming, and your pretty white shirt is red

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my [tumblr](http://oftirnanog.tumblr.com/post/37437470255/you-never-saw-it-coming-and-your-pretty-white-shirt-is)
> 
> Title from Cary Ann Hearst's "Hells Bells"

It’s almost two months after the incident with Gerard, twenty-four hours almost to the minute since Jackson’s family left town, when Allison finally shows up at Lydia’s.

            Lydia feels her before she sees her, a dark figure pausing against the doorframe, silent and hesitant. She hears Allison’s throat click as she swallows, preparing to say something, to explain away the secrecy.

            “You should’ve told me,” Lydia says, not bothering to look up from filing her nails, cutting Allison off before she even has a chance to start.

            Allison lets out a breath that only shakes a little. “I know.”

            Lydia pauses, then looks up when Allison doesn’t say anything further. She keeps her expression neutral, though she’s surprised. She’d expected an excuse, an explanation of some kind, not that she wanted it. But she’d expected something.

            Then again, Allison’s always been pretty good at surprising her.

            “Okay then,” Lydia says. “Help me pick out something to wear. We’re going out.”

            Allison lets out a tremulous laugh, part relief, part gratitude, and all unrestrained delight. Lydia gives her a smile that only just slides into smirking territory and arches one careful eyebrow.

            True to form, Allison responds with a look that is as fond as any Lydia’s ever seen.

 

***

 

            After the second clash with the alpha pack Allison takes Lydia out to the woods for target practice. Lydia may be immune, but she’s not invincible. The look on Allison’s face when Lydia hit the ground, clutching at the wide dark claw wounds on her torso, trying to staunch the bleeding (who knew she had so much blood to spare?), that look is enough for Lydia to agree to this excursion.

Not that she would have tried to get out of it. Truth be told she’s wanted to get her hands on a weapon since this supernatural world unfolded (since she was lured by a ghost, since she can still feel his fingers caressing her neck when she closes her eyes).

Allison tries to sell Lydia on a bow, or at the very least a crossbow. But while Lydia can appreciate the way Allison handles both, all determined focus and fluid grace, her fingers keep twitching for the gun.

She lets Allison loose a quiver full of arrows first. Lydia finds her eyes following the line of Allison’s neck where her hair has been swept back over her shoulder, down to the elbow that’s drawn back, the fingers that rest gently by her ear. She only notices the arrow when she hears it whistle through the air and thunk into its mark with terrifying accuracy.

It’s the not the first time she’s wanted to bite down on the skin at the juncture of Allison’s neck and shoulder, but it is the first time she seriously considers acting on it, the first time she really wonders what Allison tastes like, if she’d kiss with the same unwavering precision.

Lydia strides over to the large tree stump currently acting as a weapon’s table. She snatches up the gun, attaches a clip, and flicks the safety off, pointing it at the arrow Allison just lodged in a nearby tree. She takes a deep breath and squeezes, grins when she sees the bullet has lodged itself right against the arrow tip.

Allison turns from the tree to stare at Lydia, eyebrows raised.

Lydia shrugs one shoulder, lowering the gun.

“My dad used to take me to the shooting range,” she says.

Allison shakes her head slightly, smiles, and then nods, like she should have known all along.

Lydia thinks she really should have.

Then Allison takes her turn at surprising Lydia by walking over and pulling her into a kiss, hands firms on either side of Lydia’s face, fingertips sneaking into her hair. Lydia gasps and grabs onto Allison’s waist, pushes herself against her hard enough that it’s almost painful.

Lydia flicks the safety on when she realizes she’s still holding the gun.

 

***

 

            Lydia lifts her head from where she’s tonguing Allison’s clit and meets Allison’s eyes across her sweat-slick body.

            “I want to be the one to kill him,” she says, and she relishes the way Allison’s fingernails scrape against her scalp as her fingers clench more tightly in her hair.

            She’s panting, hips trying to cant forward from where they’re pinned beneath Lydia’s forearm.

            “Lydia,” she breathes. Begs.

            Lydia presses Allison’s hips more securely against the bed.

            Allison groans, frustrated and resigned. “Fine,” she grits out. “Now get on with it.”

            Lydia smiles, presses a kiss to the inside of Allison’s thigh, and with her free hand pushes two fingers inside her. Allison lets out a broken-off groan, fingers flexing in Lydia’s hair, thumb rubbing against her temple. Lydia noses at the neatly trimmed triangle of hair and Allison shivers. Lydia murmurs soothing nonsense in response, curls her two fingers to rub against Allison’s insides, fastens her mouth and sucks. Allison makes a noise caught between a scream and a moan and convulses under Lydia’s arm.

            Allison tugs gently at Lydia when it becomes too much, pulls her up and over her body, and Lydia willingly follows, lets Allison chase the taste of herself on Lydia’s tongue. Whatever happens next, Lydia knows she’s won this round.

 

***

 

            Peter Hale is still wearing a smirk when he dies. When Lydia looks down at his body, looses another round of wolfsbane bullets into his chest for good measure, she thinks he looks far too satisfied. Like he knew he deserved it; like he knew it would be her.

            Lydia’s not sure if that makes it better or worse, but decides it doesn’t matter. She watches tar black blood ooze around the edges of the bullet wounds and smiles down at him. And maybe she gets it a little. His unrelenting, casualty-ridden revenge. But it doesn’t stop her from hating him.

            When Allison comes to stand by her side, crossbow on her back, and holds out the sword for Lydia to finish the job, suddenly she’s had enough of it.

            “He’s all yours,” Lydia says. “I’ve spent more than enough energy already where he’s concerned.”

            Allison’s eyes flicker with uncertainty until she meets Lydia’s gaze. Then she nods once, all business. Lydia walks away before Allison cleaves him in half, finally sick of all the blood and death and the cloyingly sweet scent of wolfsbane underneath it all.

            It doesn’t make the sword’s dull thump of finality any less satisfying.


End file.
